Because happiness never feels the way you think....

Does it?

I'm not sure... well I am sure... I'm sure what's missing... I'm not aiming for cryptography here, well, I am by nature ambiguous (never ambivalent, though), but really, I got ho's in different area codes, that read this shit.  I insinuate; they infer.  Humans are born with the ability to communicate on such a sophisticated level, these languages, systems of infinite combinations of patterns of strings of constructs of sounds made by closing the back of the throat, rounding the lips, flapping the tongue, and exhaling.  Sometimes through the nose.  And sometimes the mouth.

We also, naturally and by nature, kinda think everything's about us.

And sometimes it's got nothin' to do with ya, Sally Mae!  In fact, this is all fake, okay?  I downloaded those music from youtube, and I'm really a man.

But for story's SAKE.

I don't think there's any possible way Brandon (which is actually his real name, which is kinda dumb, but kinda not, for reasons that I will shortly address) has seen this blog, because he doesn't read, and because he doesn't care.  And he's the only one I've said anything bad about and it hasn't even been bad.

But if I can't keep it real here, what's the point?

I wish I was born here in Nashville.  Or somewhere nearby.  I wish I knew the same people my whole life.  I still could've pursued music, it's the perfect place for it... Granted what I do now is a little different, but songwriting, singing, and playing the piano, is always music.  It couldve gone any direction, stylistically... or would it not have?  I mean would I have come out the same person somehow, regardless?

Ughhhh if a tree falls in the fucking forest.

I'm just so sick of starting over.  I'm so sick of reinvention.  I am the phoenix.  And I am one thousand years old. 

how dare i try to impose my stupid thoughts
subject the world to my dark soul
its all so ugly in there

nobody wants to see that shit

and nobody wants to live it

Superhero.

I look like this.  Right now.


I play like this.  Not yet.  Not yet, no.  But.







When I think about my music... or when somebody asks... I can't call it... anything... I can't describe it... CLASSIFY.  It sounds pompous, but I don't mean this that way.  It's just... I think of myself as writing, as writing the way any of them would write.  The gods.  The greats.  I am writing symphonies.  I'm writing CLASSICAL MUSIC.  I don't know.  I'm just writing MUSIC.  That's all. 

What prevents scarring.

The demons come, they came to me last night.

When the demons come they want to ruin my face and they want to ruin my hands.

Demons are like heat-seeking missiles; they charge for the whitest light... I hurled myself against the gate, and bled, my face is covered in huge scratches and I hope they don't scar.

The demons come from the people dearest to you, your favorite light. Sometimes they are powerful and they overwhelm you, possess you, as they leave the person across the table... The person across the table says, Wow. All the pain and worries... you just made them go away... We spoke and now they're sitting in the ashtray.

Yes, you say. But you feel on edge... You feel sad... You feel exhausted... And two days later, you find yourself in so much pain and filled with so much darkness and rage and you feel them trying to siege at the person across the room. The person with so much light.

But you fight them... So you fight yourself... You watch yourself try to destroy you. The demons want to ruin my face, and to ruin my hands, and they wanted it so intensely I hurled myself against the gate, I scratched my fingernails slowly and deeply down my face, I punched the concrete and banged my head on it 15 times.

The person across the room didn't want to take on the pain; he stood there and watched and didn't stop me once.

I don't know if they are gone; I don't know if he, is now on edge, sad, exhausted.

I only know my face is covered in bruises and deep scratches. And it hurts to play the piano.

Does anything prevent scarring, can anything keep it from scarring me now...